Being a Bunansa
by Ellcrys
Summary: Ashe needs to ask a very important favor of Balthier, something only he can do. Too bad he wants no part of it.
1. Chapter 1

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**Disclaimer:** Characters do not belong to me, and I'm poor. Share and enjoy!.

**Warnings:** Endgame spoilers, though thoroughly predictable ones. The real spoilers are the Phon Coast conversation.

**Notes:** This is not a pairing I believe in. Not at all. I think the story itself makes that pretty clear - it's just that it's _logical_ for this to happen anyhow.

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**Being a Bunansa (1 of 2)**

Puzzling, Balthier thought as he glanced over the note again. It had been waiting for him at the Balfonheim aerodrome, sealed with wax and an emblem he'd never seen before - some commoner's meaningless choice for a seal, he'd thought at the time. Delivered, they said, by a chief steward aboard one of the commercial airships, who said she was returning a favor, at which point Balthier assumed he knew who it had come from. Imagine his surprise when he broke the seal, only to find writ inside an invitation from the queen of Dalmasca.

He'd very nearly ignored it. Royal feasts were not the sort of thing he enjoyed - unless he was avoiding the banquet hall to take advantage of everyone's inattention, though he'd been a bit soured on that trick during his last attempt at the Dalmascan royal palace. Fran found them even less appealing than he. But on the other hand, he had hardly seen Ashe since her coronation a few years past, and she had never contacted him on her own. For her to do so now was unusual, and he suspected that there was more to it than a simple feast. Especially seeing as she had not addressed her missive to him in particular, nor used her own seal. This was clearly to be no above-board visit to Rabanastre.

...It could be interesting.

The sounds of merriment and the smells of rich food were carried on the breeze as he strode down the street in the half-light of sunset. At least it seemed that there _was_ a feast, and this was not some strange sort of trap - he'd wondered briefly if the letter was from Ashe at all. "Invitation?" inquired the guard gruffly as he approached the entrance.

"Why yes, it is," Balthier replied, waving the stiff paper before the man's helmet. "Good of you to notice." The man gave a sniff, but stepped aside.

Inside, the posted guards remained vigilant and numerous - perhaps Ashe recalled what she herself had plotted during one past feast night in this very palace - and the wall sconces illuminated the path which guests were clearly supposed to be taking to the hall. There were others making the same journey, though stopping to speak with each other on occasion, so Balthier supposed that it was safe enough.

After showing his invitation a second time, he was admitted to the hall, and found that there was nothing at all to paint this as anything but a royal feast; a whim of the queen's, from what he overheard from the servants. More and more puzzling. Ashe didn't have 'whims', as far as Balthier knew.

It didn't take long before she showed herself, though Balthier could hardly recognize her beneath all the regalia that went with her station. She was distant, serene... Yes, she smiled, but with a dignified grace rather than one which suggested genuine pleasure. She looked more like herself when Balthier caught her glancing around the hall instead of looking at the nobleman who was speaking to her, and she spotted him by the drinks. Her eyes lingered for a moment before turning back to her apparently uninteresting conversational partner.

Balthier idly tapped the side of the wineglass he'd just taken. What game was she playing...?

He kept one eye on her while chatting up various young, attractive socialites who apparently were not bright enough to notice that he was not telling them anything of worth, until he spotted the queen managing to escape the ring of admiring, fawning nobility that surrounded her. She paused, gazing at him for a moment, then turned away.

Asking him to give chase? Usually it pleased him when women did such things, but this was a bit different. "Excuse me, my dears," he murmured, extracting himself from the half-circle of women who had approached him. "Though I've had a charming time speaking with you all, I believe it's about time I paid my respects to our queen." He hated disappointing women; Ashe would have to answer for this.

But first, he would have to catch up with her. She was easy enough to spot in that outfit, what with the feathers going every which way, and he found her by one of the long tapestries which hung from the ceiling, looking up at it. "That impressive, is it?" he said, looking up at it as well as he approached. "Have you yet visited Larsa's palace? There are some rather exquisite tapestries in his dining hall as well, if a bit more... _brutal_ in their subject matter. Such is the fashion in Archades."

"_The Conqueror of Thamasa_, one through six?" she replied. "He had them removed early on, claiming they did not further the mindset of peace for which he wishes his reign to be known. Besides, he'd never thought them appropriate for viewing during a meal."

"That's very like him," Balthier agreed absently. "He didn't destroy them, did he?"

"No - they hang now in a museum. Though not to his taste, they are remarkable for their artistry."

"Again, very like him." Time to stop with the meaningless conversation. "It's not very like _you_ to plan a feast for no particular reason, save perhaps to lure me here."

"And how like _you_ to see through it." The observation was not irritable, only matter-of-fact, as she turned her attention from the tapestry. "I have a favor to ask of you."

Balthier regarded the queen with some curiosity. Queen though she may be, aloof as she might have been in the few years since they'd travelled together, she was still Ashe underneath, he was sure - and the lady Ashe had never been unwilling to get her hands dirty. A queen, however, was different than a resistance leader. "Something you'd like to have acquired, your majesty?"

"Not precisely."

It was strange, Balthier thought. She had that same determined expression, her jaw set just as firmly as when she had been bent on revenge, as when she had tried to win freedom for her kingdom. "...Whatever this favor is, it looks to be something important," he remarked. "Keep in mind that a royal favor requires a royal reward."

She nodded. "If you accept, you may name your price, and I will see what can be done."

He raised an eyebrow at her, at the way her expression never faltered. "...That important, is it? Well then - what might this favor be?"

Was it his imagination, or did she hesitate for a moment? Her eyes fairly blazed with determination. "We cannot speak of it here. You shall come to my chambers when the night guard summons you late this evening, after I've retired. You shall come alone."

She looked so deadly serious. Balthier couldn't help but flash her his most infuriatingly charming smile. "Ohhh. This sounds like the sort of favor I'd enjoy even without payment."

The exasperated glare he got in response was to be expected from her. That instant of something else behind it when she turned away - the flush in her cheeks - was what gave him pause.

"For now," she added, looking away, "enjoy the feast. Migelo has provided us with the finest fare in Galtea."

"I imagine so," Balthier said, collecting himself before anyone could notice his own falter. "...Tasty as it all looks," he murmured, glancing after Ashe's retreating form, "my appetite seems suddenly diminished."

* * *

The guard they sent for him was an older man, old enough to be his father. Strange, Balthier thought as he followed the man down the corridors and up the stairs, when most of the current palace guard were young. Those who had been old enough when the assassination of King Raminas had taken place had mostly died in the chaos that followed. Perhaps she would trust only someone long proven with this request. Perhaps she knew that the younger guards were prone to gossip, even about the queen. This secret of hers was guarded closely, it seemed, and Balthier was beginning to feel wary. Something felt vaguely off about the whole thing, as if he was out of his league. Not that he was likely to turn down a challenge, of course, but he did have his limits...

The royal bedchamber was dark when he entered, the flicker of hallway lamplight casting his long shadow across the room for a few seconds before the door closed behind him, snuffing it out. The guard had not stayed; this was apparently to be a thoroughly private meeting.

As for Ashe, she was by the arch that led onto her balcony, dressed in a long pale nightgown that fluttered in the breeze as the gauzy curtains on either side. "A lovely sight," Balthier called quietly as he stepped forward into the half-circle of moonlight, for she had not turned when he entered. "I feel privileged to be invited to see it."

In profile, her head lowered. "You're slipping, Balthier. You sound like Al-Cid Margrace."

"Perish the thought," he replied, growing abruptly serious as he approached. "The Margrace lad would never point out that the beauty of the Dalmascan royal palace and her queen by night seems to be hiding something so sinister that they would have need of a sky pirate."

She shook her head, just barely. "No... He would not."

Balthier stopped a few feet from her, and waited. "...Your majesty, that was the bait. Even a yensa knows that bait is to be bitten. What is it that you would have me do?"

It wasn't his imagination at all, he was certain now that he was this close. Her hands were clasped together, her eyes were downcast. She was hesitant about whatever it was. "Something especially repugnant, is it? I do have my standards, I'm sure you realize that."

She nodded, very slightly, and then after another moment looked up to meet his eyes. In hers was the fire he'd seen long ago, telling the world that she would not take no for an answer. This time, she was telling him alone, and her voice was just as firm as her gaze when she spoke. "I require an heir."

Balthier thought about this, and came to a conclusion. He began to open his mouth, then he thought about it again. Unfortunately, he came to the same conclusion. "...I almost wish that I could believe you were asking me to steal a child," he said at long last.

Her eyes remained fixed on his. "I am not."

This... this was... Balthier snorted in wry amusement. "I'm flattered, your majesty, but - are you daft?"

"On the contrary," she told him, the corners of her mouth tightening. "I have long been considering every angle. Dalmasca will be lost in a generation if there is no clear heir - the blood of the Dynast-King has long served to protect us. I have no intention of marrying again, for I have no need, but I do have need for a child."

"Have you forgotten, then, the rather large bounty on my head?" he inquired, raising his voice slightly in his disbelief. She couldn't possibly be serious about this. "The illegitimate child of their queen and a notorious sky pirate - the only gain the people would find in such a child is the ransom money."

"If it were the queen and a sky pirate, yes," she replied. "But even an illegitimate child might be accepted as heir if he were born to the queen - and the last son of an honorable house of Archadia."

She had no way of knowing what a chill her words sent down his spine, how it made his blood run cold. And so, while he stood frozen at the implication and the memories, she continued to speak. "I cannot have a child by a commoner, of course - they would not have it. There are some among the Dalmascan nobility who might be willing, but they would ask too much - as would Lord Margrace. I have had communication with Larsa on the matter, and although he understands my plight and would have been willing to play such a role when he was of more proper an age, we both know that such an alliance between the two of us would mean an end to Dalmasca's independence upon my death, no matter our intentions - the empire is too strong. The same might come from marriage to a house of Rozarria. But an alliance between the queen of Dalmasca and Archadian gentry would serve only to strengthen the bond between our nations - to mingle our bloodlines while not combining them entirely."

"...You speak more sensibly than I had thought," Balthier admitted, very reluctantly, after he'd considered her words. "And yet..."

"I would ask no more of you," she told him, hope softening the fire in her eyes. "I know why you would not stay with me, just as you know why I would not wish you to. Larsa has said that he would verify that the child's father is indeed as I say, with the positive identification coming from Judges Zargabaath and Gabranth, for Larsa himself was young when you left Archades - so you need not risk losing your anonymity by appearing with me as Ffamran Bunansa. If you say no, then I will find another, but I had thought it better to ask you... As a friend, not as the queen."

He looked at her for a long while. She was beautiful by the light of the moon, silver catching her pale hair and glowing through the fabric of her nightgown. Her expression was still hers, set and determined - but therein lay the issue, for he saw her not as a queen, but as a young woman he'd spent entirely too much time with, whose wounds he had healed and vice-versa, who'd nonchalantly wiped the blood off her blade before sheathing it, whose lip he'd expected to tremble when she slid the ring from her finger, but didn't. Who was still wearing that ring, he noted, upon thinking of it and looking down. He liked that young woman rather better than he liked the queen, and he did find her quite attractive... but he knew her too well.

"I have to admit it's a tempting thought," he said with a shrug. "There's just one little problem - House Bunansa has already fallen. Ffamran is just as dead as his dear father was, six years before he stopped moving."

Her lips parted slightly in surprise, but before she could speak, Balthier turned away, heading for the door. "Balthier!"

Her voice was firm, but he shook his head. "If you want a ghost to sire your children, you'd do better to ask Rasler."

He could veritably hear the anger in the breath she drew - but amazingly, she let that shot go without punishment. "...It doesn't have to be that way. House Bunansa could go on - with a legacy of honor rather than madness."

He halted, but did not look back at her. He didn't trust himself enough. "And what do I care, your majesty, for the revival of a corrupted house born of a corrupted system in a corrupted nation?"

He could have left then, and ignored any further protest on her part. He wasn't entirely sure why he didn't, except that she made no further protest. When she spoke again, in fact, it was in a different tone. "...I apologize." At the sudden softness of her voice, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder. "I had thought that I might be doing you a favor as well," she said, "but instead I see that I've reopened old wounds."

At least she understood now, he thought. "I suppose I'll have to accept that apology," he said, forcing his tone back to irreverant nonchalance despite the lingering frustration. "I can't abide the thought of leaving a pretty girl to be sad when she thinks of me."

She answered with an exasperated sniff, but her voice remained the same, soft and conciliatory. "I cannot imagine living without pride in my bloodline, without the desire for my name to continue. I thought it must be the same for you - or that it could be."

"Bloodline is a great deal less important in Archades," Balthier told her, finally deciding to turn around again - if she was going to try to understand him after all, the least he could do was try to help her. "Houses rise and fall constantly - the Bunansa family only became gentry three generations past, in fact. Doctor Cid was the first to be listed among the companions of an emperor, for he had information, and information is the most important thing to have if you wish to stay on top. The fate of those who cling to bloodline above all else can be seen in the legacy of House Solidor. Just look at what pride in that name has left Larsa with - nothing but a meaningless title and a palace full of very proud ghosts."

"It is not so meaningless for those who value human life rather than power," she rebuked him. "I take pride in the fact that I may protect Dalmasca and her people. My title, won through my bloodline, presents me as a symbol of justice and freedom to them - and I am honor-bound to live up to this. Though I have power, I also recognize that my station is not to be taken advantage of, and through it I bear much responsibility. It has not been a simple life to live, being the symbol that my nation requires, as you yourself saw when we first met," she admitted, sitting down upon her bed, "but I would not trade it for the world."

"Well then - that is the difference between you and I, your majesty," Balthier pointed out gently, crossing the room again to seat himself beside her. "I _did_ trade it for the world."

She nodded slightly. "...I suppose that you did."

Her proposal again came to mind, and it made him bristle somewhat. "I would want any child I father to have the same option."

"He would," she said quickly, looking up to him. "I swear it. It is a heavy burden to bear, and I bore it willingly, but I recognize that another might not. All I can do is make the choices I am required to make today, and pray that I make them well. I would ask no more of my children."

"After all your talk about what the lineage of the Dynast-King means to your people? What would come, I wonder, if the last in Raithwall's line was to run off and become a sky pirate?"

"Then I would direct him to the best I know."

She looked so earnest, so certain, that in light of what she was asking, it made Balthier feel awkward to be sitting on her bed with her. Normally, women he found himself in such positions with were entirely flippant and casual. He knew better than to think it meant she was serious about _him_, of course, but even so... he felt a need to lighten the mood. "...I trust you don't mean Vaan."

That did the trick - she ducked her head, not quite hiding a smile. "No, I did not."

"He's doing well enough," Balthier continued, leaning back on his hands to look aimlessly upwards, "but there can be only one leading man, you know."

"Of course." She did likewise, and didn't bother to hide the little smile that played across her lips this time, as they fell into a more comfortable silence. "...I believe," she murmured, "that Raithwall's progeny will always be here to take up Dalmasca's banner when our nation is threatened, even if not as royalty. It doesn't matter if the next is king or pirate or pauper - all I can do is what I can manage during my lifetime, and for now it means an heir."

They truly were in different situations, Balthier thought, though once they had been in similar positions. He had cast off the trappings of duty and legacy, having fulfilled his last responsibility to his house by disposing of the last blighted branch.

On the other hand, with the blighted branch snipped, perhaps the Bunansa name could be made to bloom once more. He didn't have any particular desire to make it do so, of course. But it could.

She'd begun looking at him curiously. "...What are you thinking?" she finally inquired.

"You said that there were others you might use instead," he put forth. "Why ask me? Was it _only_ because you thought to do me a favor?"

She shook her head. "No..." she began slowly. "There were other reasons, more selfish."

"Such as?" he prompted.

He'd suspected this would fluster her, and indeed, she turned her head. "...I know you," she said simply. "I know that you would not wish to marry me, or to stay in Rabanastre as my consort. You would... fulfill this request... and then you would return to the Strahl, and to Fran."

"Yes, I would," he said dryly. "Good to know we're on the same page. Is there anything more?"

She nodded. "Again... I know you. You've seen me at my worst, and you've proven trustworthy. I need not fear you using this against me in some plot. And," she added with sudden determination - as if she'd decided that if she was to say it, then she _would_ say it, "to lie with a friend would be preferable to lying with someone for whom I care nothing, apart from their title."

"How very touching." Balthier was not being quite so sarcastic as he sounded - in a roundabout way, she _was_ saying that she cared for him, and fortunately not in the troublesome way. "Though I'd hoped my good looks would have something to do with it."

She glanced back long enough to give him an exasperated look. "Not that it makes a difference, but I will admit that most of my other prospects are not particularly appealing."

The fact that he was too busy thinking to respond to such a near-compliment was perhaps telling, and she looked at him a little closer. "Balthier?"

"You've given me much to think about. ...I suppose I shall have to think about it," he reasoned.

She drew a soft breath, and for a moment, Balthier wondered if she was going to ask if he was serious. But no - she did know him, if not all the details. "Thank you," she told him. "For even entertaining the idea."

He only nodded, not wanting to say anything that was any more or any less affirmative as of yet. "If you're willing to wait, your majesty, I will return your answer soon."

"I am. And you needn't address me such," she added as he stood. "As I said before, this is not the request of a queen, but of a friend."

"As you wish, though I confess I might not be so respectful with a queen who was not a friend," he remarked.

In this case, the queen and the friend were one and the same, he mused as he made his way back through the palace, out to the aerodrome - he had no desire to stay in the palace that night. The Strahl was comforting, for it went where he went. No home had he besides the one he brought with him.

A queen and a friend, both the same... he wondered if this was true for the sky pirate and an long-ignored Archadian lad who had never been given the chance to grow into anything more than his father's son. And what of a child, borne of these four personas in only two shells?

His entering the cabin woke Fran, and she turned over. "You're back rather late," she murmured, shifting aside to make room for him.

"My apologies." They seldom slept in the same bunk, but despite his flippant reply as he lay down, tonight the comfort seemed appealing. Not her body, but simply her warmth - her presence. "Who am I to refuse, when the queen invites me to her bedchambers?"

"A likely story."

He quirked an eyebrow knowingly. "That's what I thought."

Fran gave him a measuring look, but said nothing; she knew him well enough to know when he didn't want to talk. At the moment, he certainly didn't - he just wanted to sleep. And then, perhaps, to fly.

No, there was no perhaps. He wanted to fly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Being a Bunansa (2 of 2)**

She didn't seem to have expected his response just yet. Or rather, the royal guard didn't. How thoroughly annoying for everyone involved, Balthier thought as he waited in mild discomfort for her arrival.

The sound of a door closing, light footsteps in the corridor with the metallic accompaniment of a knight's armor, and there she was, stepping into the lamplight, wrapped up in a robe that had been thrown on hastily. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but she fortunately held her tongue. Balthier could only imagine what would have happened if she spoke the name she primarily called him by, before all of these good, upstanding knights.

"Your majesty," he said, with as respectful a bow as he could manage when he had been ordered to stand up straight with hands in the air. "I do apologize for all of this commotion. If it's any consolation, it seems your men are much better than the empire's were, back in the day."

She nodded slowly. "It would seem so. All of you, at ease. This man will do me no harm."

"As you wish, your majesty," said the night captain - Balthier didn't recognize him - as he put away his sword. Some of the knights looked dubious, but if nothing else, they were loyal.

"You may continue with your usual rounds," she said, dismissing them, then turned to Balthier. "As for you, we should speak in private. Come with me."

He followed as she turned and strode back down the corridor - towards the bedchambers where they'd spoken previously, Balthier recognized. "You couldn't simply request an audience, could you," she observed, from a pace ahead.

"What can I say? I thought it best not to arouse anyone's curiosity but yours."

"You rather failed on that count."

"As I said, your men are better than I'd expected. Shall I make it up to you?"

She didn't look back at him, or slow her pace for him to catch up, but her reply was soft. "...I believe we should wait until we are back in my own chambers to discuss that."

"I would have to agree with you there."

It wasn't much further - he'd been most of the way there when the knights had closed in to surround him. One still remained by her door, having been designated to stand watch in case the intruder had been a diversion, no doubt, but she dismissed him as well. "This man is trustworthy," she told the knight, "for our lives have been in each others' hands many a time now. Haven't they, Ffamran?" His mouth tightened, but this was, he supposed, necessary.

"...It's strange to hear that name again," he remarked, once the door was closed behind them. "And a bit discomfiting. I'd rather not have it become a habit, addressing me as such."

"You were the one who first gave them the name," she pointed out, lighting a crystal upon the wall.

"I didn't suppose they'd be gentle with the notorious Balthier, unless you had ordered it." He wandered towards the balcony; he'd never felt comfortable in a palace. Unless, of course, he was there uninvited. "And that did not seem likely."

Casual dismissals aside, she had already caught on. "You would not use _that_ name, but that you meant for it to be heard."

"You're quite observant, your majesty. Yes, I did come to accept your proposal," he affirmed, as she came to stand beside him, "should it still stand."

When he looked down, she looked as though she wanted to smile, but was still wary. "May I ask what changed your mind?"

"I considered it," he began, "and it was abundantly clear that I care little for House Bunansa - certainly it is no concern to me whether it lives or dies. ...In fact, I care so little that I see no point in standing in the way of its rebirth, should it chance to put in another appearance as I do a friend a favor."

She let out a breath which sounded just a bit shaky. He wondered if it was laughter or anxiety; he could not tell from the look in her eyes. "Thank you. I swear, it shall not affect your life any more than you choose."

Maybe it was neither, he thought. Quite possibly it was just relief. "Bear in mind that I will hold you to that," he said, flashing her a little smile. "Of course, if they discover that Ffamran Bunansa is no more, you and the child will be the ones caught in the backlash. _I_ can always run away again."

"I am not unaware," she agreed. "But all who know thus far have kept the secret."

"Jules would tell anyone who asked for the right fee," Balthier mused. "But then, he has to hold his tongue when it comes to my doings."

"Oh?"

"Let's just say that I've known Jules for a long, long time..."

He wanted to sound clever. Unfortunately, she too was clever, and picked up on the truth. "Which is to say that the two of you have a mutual deep secret in your pasts, which protects from the other telling tales."

"If you weren't a queen, you could be quite a streetear yourself," Balthier sighed.

"I did the job well enough as a princess."

"Only because no one knew. All royalty have scandals, my dear, and it is a streetear's job to ferret them out. You'd be a lovely target, especially on a balcony in the silver moonlight."

"Because I am standing beside a man with a silver tongue."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He gave her a wink. "Speaking of scandals, would you like to get started on yours tonight?"

Her eyes turned away as she considered. "...That would be... acceptable."

He cocked his head to the side skeptically as she moved to step back inside. "You sound less than enthusiastic," he noted. "That's no way to put a man in the proper mood."

"I mean no offense," said Ashe, and though she'd turned away, Balthier could see that she clasped her hands together before her. He could just imagine the gesture, for he'd seen it many times before. "It has naught to do with you."

"Oh, believe me - I know." His words may have been dry, but his tone and the hand he placed gently upon her shoulder softened them. "I do have one condition, milady."

She inclined her head, as if shamed, but her voice remained proud. "Oh?"

"Remove his ring." He couldn't help but smile a little. "I may be a scoundrel in nearly every sense of the word, but married women are off-limits."

He was still smiling when she turned to him a few moments later, pensive but resolved. Balthier knew that he had been right about that gesture, for she'd hardly moved, but now the ring in question was in her palm, which was turned upwards as if to offer it. He shook his head. "I don't want it - I decided it didn't suit me when I had it before," he said, closing her fingers over it. "You keep it. "

She smiled a grateful smile back at him as she lowered her hand. "A test...?"

"I meant no more by it than what I said aloud. Besides," he added, leading her towards her bed, "why would I repeat a test which you passed some years ago?"

"I see." She set the ring down on a small table beside the bed, carefully. "I confess, however... without it, I feel... naked."

Balthier nodded and sat down on the bed. "But if we're going to do this," he told her with his most charming smile, reaching out for the folds of the robe she wore, "that feeling will be entirely appropriate."

Though the little sound she made was one of exasperation, she obliged, shrugging the robe from her shoulders. And, to his surprise - though he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, considering that it was Ashe - reached down to begin opening his shirt.

It was strange, he thought as the two of them rid each other of their various articles of clothing. She'd worn perhaps less than a nightgown when they had fought together for Dalmasca, and exposed more skin than the regal apparel she wore now, but he hadn't thought much about it at the time - no more than that she might have been a pretty girl, but he couldn't be sure, since she would not tolerate anything less than respectful looks. But then, he'd always believed that it was true what they said about concealment being far more erotic than exposure. Or maybe he'd just become accustomed to the baring of skin - just look at what Fran ran around in on a regular basis. Either way, shedding sheer layer after sheer layer of Ashe's bedclothes was exciting in a way he would not have expected he might ever feel for her.

It didn't seem to be so exciting for Ashe, Balthier thought, for she remained silent and stoic as she helped him remove his own clothing and lay it aside on the end of the bed. It was a very large bed, and Balthier wondered if this had been the bed that she and Prince Rasler had shared at their marriage. Hmph... knowing Ashe, she probably hadn't waited until they were married. Even so, it struck him as a sobering thought, and a likely explanation for how still and how somber she was as she lay, bare and beautiful in the moonlight, upon the soft sheets. At least she dared to look at him as he lay down at her side, just as bare as she.

She made a quiet, surprised noise as he bent over her, kissing her collarbone, and then down the center of her chest while his fingers traced over her ribs and downwards. "...Foreplay is not necessary for this."

He kissed her stomach, then lifted his head to give her a smile. "Oh, trust me, your majesty - it is." Not only did he like to please women in general, and women he was fond of more so, but given the chance to lie with the queen of Dalmasca? He was going to make sure that she damn well _enjoyed_ the experience.

From the startled "Oh!" that she gasped a few moments later, he thought he was on the right track.

* * *

Afterwards, Balthier was not sure what to do. Most women seemed to want to be held, perhaps kissed. He was not the cuddly type, and he suspected that neither was Ashe. Except - as was the case with him - perhaps with someone special. He wasn't that person for her, she was not that person for him, and knowing it didn't put him off in the slightest.

She still hadn't quite caught her breath. Funny, she'd had more stamina than he had back in the day. But then, she had been living the royal life ever since, which was perhaps not as conducive to staying in the best of physical condition. Not that she looked any worse, particularly like this. But honestly? All Balthier could truly feel at the moment was protective.

On the other hand, he had no idea how to express it towards someone like her, who was determined to need no one's protection. It was safest to just lie there, and let her be.

It grew more awkward once her breathing had evened out, and yet they still lay there in silence, touching only incidentally and not even looking. Finally, she took a deeper breath and spoke. "...Thank you."

Her voice was as flat as Giza. Balthier knew better than to take offense - she was just thinking, that was all. Thinking, possibly remembering.

That wasn't the sort of thing he liked to do when in bed with a woman. "I'd say the pleasure was all mine, but I certainly hope that it wasn't."

"No..." One would never have been able to guess at the sounds she'd been making only minutes before from her distracted tone.

Well, that just wouldn't do. Balthier affected a thoughtful frown, turning onto his side to look at her. "...You know," he began, "all things considered, disposition and all that, I'd thought you would be... well, _tighter_."

She blinked and looked back at him in disbelief. Irritation narrowed her eyes after a moment; clearly _no one_ ever spoke so irreverently to her. ...Perhaps that had been a bit too much?

Or perhaps not. "Given your reputation," she replied with a challenging stare, "I'd expected you to be larger."

Balthier mock-gasped. "_Ouch_," he remarked. He couldn't help chuckling, though - and sure enough, she gave him a little smile in return. Just as he'd hoped. "Is it all well with you, then?" he asked, quieting a bit.

She nodded. "Well enough. ...Though we will not know right away if this has been successful."

"Of course. Well, if it hasn't," he reasoned, propping himself up on one elbow, "you know how to reach me. Assuming you would want to try again. All joking aside, I did enjoy it."

"As did I," she agreed. "And yes - I would not give up. Again, I must thank you."

"You're quite welcome." She was growing thoughtful again, but Balthier sensed that this time it was a more pleasant sort of thoughtfulness. That was just as well, because he'd been doing some thinking of his own before he returned.

"...You know," he said, "despite all my concerns, I don't imagine the child really would go running off to become a sky pirate."

"Oh...?"

He shook his head. "Not as long as he - or she - will have a mother who clearly values him, who pays attention. A parent who knows how very important he is. If I'd had that much, I might not have left home myself."

She lowered her eyes. "...I'm sorry."

"Unless you're secretly my father, don't be. I'm quite content with how my life has turned out - if I wasn't, I would have taken advantage of this favor I'm doing for you to return to Archades in high esteem." He shook his head. "Not interested."

"On that subject," Ashe put in, "you never _did_ name your price."

Not that Balthier had thought she'd forgotten, but he was still mildly surprised, and more than a little impressed, that she would remind him. "Even now? After I've already fulfilled my part? That's a dangerous wager."

"I did say you could ask for anything, and that I would see what I could do. It was that important to me."

Coming from the queen of Dalmasca, that was somewhat tempting... but no. "Financial compensation would make me a prostitute, your majesty - and I have enough unsavory professions beneath my belt already without making it literal."

"I thought not. You'd rather steal your fortune than have it given to you anyway, wouldn't you?"

"Very astute of you. The challenge is far more entertaining for me than the end result." But on a more serious note, he did want to make certain of something. "...Just... be sure that it is as I said before, that the child knows that he or she is cared for as more than just the heir to the throne, a vessel for Raithwall's blood."

Ashe nodded firmly. "I would raise the child to be proud of his heritage, and I shall also love him as my father loved me - for that too is a part of his heritage."

"Good. I have no intention of taking on an apprentice anytime soon." He paused, considering. "Of course, I'm sure the child will at least _threaten_ to run off and become a sky pirate no matter how he's raised. Between the two of us, we couldn't help but create a holy terror."

Ashe's soft sniff sounded like a stifled laugh. "...This is true."

"And on that note," Balthier added, "don't entirely rule out the idea of remarrying. It's all well and good if you're strong enough to go on your own, but if you find the right partner, they can be invaluable even so."

"I would say that I envy you and Fran, the certainty and strength you have in one another," she agreed softly. "All should be so lucky as to find such a person... but I have no need for envy, for I found Rasler. I think that I should not be so lucky as to find another like him."

"I don't know about that..." Balthier turned onto his back, putting his arms behind his head. "Perhaps he was right for the person you were back then. You've grown since, and though he might have grown with you had he lived, now perhaps someone else could be a proper fit. There's no sense to ruling it out entirely. Besides, how could you think your luck was anything less than extraordinary?" he added, stretching lazily. "You met me, didn't you?"

"...And to think, I was about to say that you were more thoughtful than I'd given you credit for," Ashe muttered, but it was a good-natured sort of muttering.

"Of course not. Then you might get the idea in your head that you should marry _me_."

"Perish the thought," she said dryly. "Your notion of what constitutes pillow talk would drive me mad before the sun had gone down on the wedding night."

"Better than marrying Ffamran Bunansa. That lad simply came when called, did as he was told, skulked about finding ways to irritate his father without calling attention to the fact. Never stood up for himself when he was found out, because he was spineless. You'd find him boring." Balthier nodded, authoritative. " I know I did."

"...In that case, I can only be glad that you are he no longer." Ashe smiled a little and leaned over the side of the bed, looking for her discarded nightgown. "You clearly find Balthier much more interesting."

"As do all who meet him." Balthier flashed her his most charmingly exasperating smile as he reached for his own clothes. "Speaking of interesting encounters, I suppose I should be on my way soon, so I must ask - are there guards posted below your balcony?"

"When you go, you shall be leaving the _ordinary_ way," she instructed him. "Through the door, with me as your escort."

"How boring."

"You _are_ supposed to be Ffamran tonight," she reminded him.

He sighed. "Touche, majesty."

* * *

The moon had just passed its peak in the sky, and Fran was fast asleep by the time Balthier had returned to the Strahl - but he didn't wish to stay. There were some ruins that warranted examination at a site past Rozarria.

After being cleared for take-off, he paused for a moment with the craft in hover, looking up at the near-full orb and the stars over the desert below through the glass. If Ashe conceived, he could just imagine the gossip that would accompany the news when it broke in Archades. The children he'd grown up with would be boasting that they'd played in the streets with the father of the Dalmascan heir. The elders would be expressing their surprise that the moody, insolent Bunansa boy they remembered from the last years before his disappearance had somehow managed to find his way into the good graces of a queen, particularly one with such a fearsome reputation. That prick Jules would probably make a fortune from those who wanted a witness that the two of them had even met.

His father would have been proud. Balthier had acknowledged that before returning his answer, yet for once it hadn't given him the urge to turn aside, to do exactly the opposite. Perhaps it had something to do with the thought that even before his father had met Venat and changed so completely... even then, his father would have been proud - back when he truly was his father. The father who had taught his son about the stars, many years before either of them knew that the father would become Dr. Cid of Draklor and the son would become a sky pirate. Back then, finding the names and coordinates together, they had been just a father and son, and his father had been exceptional when it came to instruction. Though the Strahl had the latest in navigational technology (or rather, the latest for the year in which he'd stolen it), Balthier still could use the constellations as in the olden times.

...He wondered if he would be as good a teacher as his father had been.

...Maybe he could find out.

He put this inherited knowledge to use now, and finding east-southeast, ninety-seven degrees over the walls of Rabanastre towards Ridorana, he raised his hand in a little salute. "Cheers, Dad," he murmured. "Let's hope this one gets it right, hmm? It's not so easy, being a Bunansa. Yet... I suppose it doesn't have to be a bad thing, in itself."


End file.
